


Even-Handed

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Desperation, Dubious Consent, Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Shower Sex, Spanking, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: It's a mark of how desperate Jon's become that Elias is the one he turns to, struggling for control and willing to try anything. No matter what the consequences might be.





	Even-Handed

This was not a concession.

The lie prickled on Jon’s tongue as he reached shakily for the pitcher of water and poured himself another glass. Elias was out of prison. Elias was under house arrest. Elias wanted to see Jon.

And Jon had come, of course.

For his own reasons, to find out what answers Elias had, what Jon might be able to wrest from him. Or maybe just to shout at Elias. About the damage he’d caused with his secrets. The way he’d drawn Jon into his world, without ever explaining it. How he’d abandoned Jon.

The last sat most uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach as he gulped the water down, poured another glass. After all, hadn’t they been the ones to remove Elias from power? And it’d been the right choice. Making sure a murderer, particularly one as dangerous as Elias, faced justice was a clear moral choice. 

Jon’s eyes flicked up to stare at the door. It remained stubbornly shut, and he hadn’t had to check to know it was locked. Elias was taunting him, likely trying to teach him yet another vague and infuriating lesson. But what could Jon do? Except wait. 

As he emptied the remainder of the pitcher, he tried to go through what he’d say, when he saw Elias. If he shouted, Elias would weasel out of it, dismiss what Jon said. He needed to be more cautious. Clever. To ask Elias questions, ones he had to answer. And, as much as it pained him, he had to ask Elias for help. 

If he didn’t learn to control his powers better, they’d consume him. He knew that, and Elias had to know that as well. And lately it’d been getting worse. Since he’d tried to discover what Martin was up to, he’d found that his ability to use them deliberately, never truly under his control in the first place, had gotten even more erratic. And with the solstice fast approaching, it had to stop. 

So when the door finally opened, Jon restrained his flash of anger, and simply followed Elias inside. 

He’d expected some sort of taunt, but Elias remained silent as they proceeded deeper into his home, the only sound their steps on the pale wood floors. Was he waiting for Jon to speak? And Jon did want to speak, but something held him back. Not yet, not now. Elias would only dismiss it anyway, tell him to wait. And it wasn’t like he had to contain himself for long, as just then Elias stopped in front of a solid oak door, opening it and gesturing for Jon to enter.

The room seemed to be some sort of office, an ornate desk tucked against a wall, one chair in front and one behind. On the other side sat two tall bookshelves, and between them a faded leather sofa, oddly out of place in the otherwise impeccably appointed room. But then he didn’t really know Elias well, did he? Beyond being a monster. Beyond what they served and the briefest glimpses of what he’d done. 

“Please, take a seat.” Elias gestured at the sofa, before turning to a tall glass case in the corner and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. 

Jon hovered irritably at the clear dismissal but went to sit. As he shifted around, trying to get comfortable, he realized he likely should’ve held back on the water. While he could certainly ask Elias where exactly the toilet was, he didn’t particularly want this to extend longer than it had to. And it wasn’t like he planned to linger anyway. 

Resting a hand on the sofa, he shivered, then said, “Peter gave it to you because he thought you’d hate it, and he thinks you kept it out of spite. But you didn’t.” 

Jon bit off a curse as Elias turned back to him, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Another bit of useless knowledge. “I need your help.”

The request was more plaintive than he’d intended, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Perhaps if he were more amenable, then Elias would accede where he hadn’t before. He had to try.

“I can’t control my powers. And I need to, or I won’t be able to stop the Dark. And it’s getting worse, and you’ve done nothing—” He clenched his teeth, took a breath, and then repeated, “I need your help.” 

“Hmm. Do you? I’ve told you before, Jon. Easy answers won’t save you.” He took a leisurely sip of his drink, swirling it in the glass. 

Jon shifted uncomfortably; this had to be deliberate. Dragging things out, taunting him to show how much power Elias had, even as a prisoner.

“If you don’t find them on your own,” Elias continued, “then you’ll be destroyed just as assuredly if I’d told you nothing at all.” 

“Then what use are you?” Jon snapped, the echo of countless past arguments. Ones that had never, ever gotten Jon what he wanted. But then maybe that wasn’t possible with Elias. Maybe he’d have to take it. “How do I control my powers?” 

Elias shivered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before continuing, the only sign the compelling still affected him a slight tremor in his hand as he raised the glass to his lips, throat working as he swallowed the rest down. He set it aside and said in a frustratingly steady voice, “I can’t tell you.”

Fingers digging into the sofa, Jon considered his options. Tried to remain clam. 

“I knew this would be pointless.” He got to his feet, striding past Elias towards the door. “If you could be even a tiny bit useful, tell me where to find your bathroom?” 

Elias chuckled, leaning one hand on the desk, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Oh, Jon. I have missed you.” 

“Brilliant.” His fingernails dug into his palms, all while Elias remained as unruffled as before. “I’ll just see myself out then.” 

Slamming the door was petty, but it gave him satisfaction nonetheless. He started towards the entry, but then hesitated as he passed another door. It’d take a bit to get back to the Institute, and why should he bother with a grubby public toilet when Elias must have a perfectly serviceable one somewhere in here? He rested a hand against the wall, took a breath, and reached. 

The only signs it’d gone wrong were the strong arm around his waist and the momentary pounding in his head , which subsided at the brush of cool fingers. His eyes met Elias’s, who at least had the grace to not say anything as he guided Jon back to his study. It was such a small thing, trying to know the location. A failure was expected, but this was the worst it’d been yet. As Elias settled him back on the couch and sat down next to him, Jon swallowed his pride. 

“Is there anything you can do?” And even though it stuck in his throat, he continued. “I’m terrified. And I don’t know what to do.” 

Something unreadable flashed across Elias’s face. He stared at Jon for a moment, even as Jon tried desperately to remain still. To wait, because what else could he do? 

Then Elias nodded. “I can show you.”

“Wait, like what you did—” To Martin. To Melanie. Bile rose in his throat at the reminder, but Elias shook his head. Jon felt something grip his knee and glanced down in confusion to find Elias’s hand.

“Nothing of the sort.” His hand moved higher, resting on Jon’s thigh, making Jon squirm, and squirm again as the movement put pressure on his bladder. “More of a demonstration. A metaphor, if you will.” 

“A metaphor for what? How ridiculously unhelpful you are?” A response as rote as it was pitiful, but it made him feel better, at least. To pretend that he was standing up to Elias, giving him even the slightest resistance as his hand continued its trek, and Jon swallowed hard. 

“Control. I find it can help understanding, to equate the supernatural with the mundane.” His hand finished its journey, just inches from Jon’s cock, with nowhere for Jon to go as he pressed himself against the back of the sofa. He flicked a finger out, the lightest brush making Jon bite his lip, trying to focus on the pain. “Are you willing to try my method?”

Jon laughed, and hated how frantic it sounded. “You want me to, what? Have sex with you? I didn’t think you were quite so pathetic, sexually harassing your employees.” 

Elias moved from his cock, but not far, instead pressing into his abdomen, putting pressure on his bladder so suddenly that Jon couldn’t quite cut off the sound. Elias smiled, lessening the pressure but not removing it, instead rubbing insistent circles over the spot. “Oh, I do. But what I had in mind was more specific than that.” 

The rubbing increased, not in pressure but speed, and Jon whimpered, trying to twist away but stopped by the hand Elias clamped over his hip, so close now Jon could feel his breath on his face, hot and tinged with whiskey. 

“Can I say no?” 

The rubbing stopped abruptly, and Elias withdrew, not standing but allowing Jon some space, a chance to catch his breath. “Of course. You can leave now.” 

The implication was obvious. You can leave, but I won’t help you. Part of Jon, wanted to do it, to storm out as he had before, to fling it all in Elias’s face and make him eat his offensive offer. 

But the rest of him was curious. And afraid. He needed to be able to control this, needed to know, and Elias was his best hope. Offering any help at all was more than he’d often done in the past, and even if he suspected the metaphor was bullshit, he still knew it would eat at him if he refused. That eventually he’d come crawling back anyway, even more desperate, more pathetic, and let Elias have what he wanted in exchange. So there really was only one choice.

“I—I’ll do it. Whatever it is you want.” He dug his hands in his legs, trying to hide how much they were shaking. This was ridiculous. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Certainly not worse than the Stranger. But then he wasn’t sure if his hands were shaking from fear, or from anticipation. And it was latter that terrified him. 

“And you do understand that once we start, we won’t be stopping until I say so? No cold feet.” 

Jon had expected it, or something like it. But still hearing it laid out, presented for his agreement…and that was it, wasn’t it? Giving him the choice. Elias did love his choices. 

“Yes.” It was almost a relief as the word left his mouth. That there were no choices left, only commands to be followed. And he didn’t have to wait long for the first.

“Remove your clothes.” 

As Jon stood, Elias moved to the center of the sofa, relaxing slightly while he kept his eyes locked onto Jon. In the end Jon undressed as fast as he could. After all, the longer he dithered, the longer it all would take. Best to get it over with. Still he hesitated before turning back to Elias, entirely on display and not liking how much he liked Elias’s unwavering eyes. 

“Now lie down across my lap.” 

When Jon hesitated, Elias gestured at the area helpfully, prompting Jon to roll his eyes. He took a step back towards the couch, kneeling awkwardly next to Elias, fully conscious of how ridiculous he must look. Not that Elias seemed all that amused, focused on Jon in a way that sent not entirely unpleasant chills down his spine. 

“Lie down,” Elias repeated, pressing a hand against Jon’s back, guiding him to the right position. 

Elias’s legs were spread slightly, leaving one leg pressing uncomfortably against Jon’s bladder while his cock dangled between them. When he tried to shift, to relieve the pressure, Elias held him in place. Jon flushed. It was intentional, then. Was this what Elias meant about control? God, it couldn’t be, could it?

“I need to—not go, but,” he pushed past the embarrassment, continuing as the hand on his back drifted lower, “I need to use your toilet.” 

“I know,” Elias said. 

And then came the first blow. 

Jon yelped in shock, the touch of Elias’s hand on his arse gone before he even properly registered it. But he didn’t have long to wait, another slap following, then another, not hard or painful at first, but each layering on the one before, leaving behind a burning intensity. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he squirmed, the movement only making the pressure on his bladder worse. 

“If you don’t stop now—” He bit back a moan as Elias’s hand snaked between his legs to grip his cock, tugging at it, not gentle but not overly rough, bringing Jon to full hardness, leaving him straining against the leather of the sofa. 

“Control, Jon,” Elias said, then continued. 

It was worse now, or better, or maybe just too much. Time blurred as the blows forced Jon against Elias’s lap, his cock sliding against the couch, sharp spikes of pleasure and pain intermingling. All undercut, or perhaps enhanced, by the dull, low ache of his bladder, the intensity increasing with each blow. Again, Elias stopped when Jon thought he was about to break, massaging the all too sensitive flesh of his arse. 

“You should see yourself,” he said, the movements persisting, not hard enough to be painful if not for what had come before. “You make a beautiful picture.” He punctuated his words with lips pressed against the hot skin of Jon’s arse , sucking the abused flesh in a way that left Jon moaning, his cock straining all the harder for relief. 

“Elias, please.” Not sure if he was asking Elias to stop, or to continue, to never stop until Jon knew nothing but this, Elias’s words guiding him, his hands molding him, breaking and shaping him anew. 

“Of course,” Elias said, and for a third time, the blows began to fall as Elias used his other hand to press Jon’s torso down, cruelly increasing the pressure on his bladder to an almost unbearable intensity. “I want you to come, Jon. Can you do that for me?” 

Jon wanted to spit the words back at him, that he wouldn’t do a damn thing for Elias, but his throat had closed, only capable of whimpering, of desperate moans. He could barely feel the individual slaps anymore, the main spread too far so that it all felt as one. As if hearing this thought, Elias moved lower, hands now falling on Jon’s upper thighs with a renewed intensity. Until the skin there too was sensitive and painful, and Jon writhed and desperately tried to understand how this would teach him about control. 

“Jon,” Elias said, stopping again to smooth a hand over the skin, sounding almost disappointed. “I told you. I want you to come.” 

“I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he licked his lips, tasting salt. “If I do, I’ll—”

“I believe you can,” Elias said. “You’re just too stubborn.”

“Stubborn?” Jon’s voice was thick, the words hard to swallow, harder still to speak as Elias shifted him until he was dangling half off the sofa, bladder pressed horribly into Elias’s knee. “You’re the one—” He choked back a sob as Elias struck again, the angle worse than ever, the pain and pleasure and desperation merging into a whole Jon couldn’t begin to process, couldn’t hope to control. When Elias struck again, he let go, coming with only the leather of the sofa brushing his cock. 

As the orgasm faded, the pain only grew. Elias was massaging the abused skin of his arse and thighs, but that pain was secondary to the tension building in his bladder. 

“Elias, you have to let me—” He squirmed, but the ordeal had left him weak, and Elias clamped a hand down on his shoulder. 

“You’ll stay here until I say otherwise.” His knee dug in harder, and Jon whimpered, trying to hold it in, trying to keep it all held in even as his will cracked under the pressure. “And you won’t let it go.”

“I can’t.” He didn’t bother to hide the sob now, cheeks wet. Aware he must look ridiculous, but beyond embarrassment, beyond anything but the pure will it took to hold it back. 

Elias dug his fingernails into Jon’s arse, voice low and threatening as he said, “If you fail, there’ll be more to come.”

Impossible, but he could no longer find the words to argue. Not with Elias rubbing his skin, and pushing harder on his bladder. He tried to ignore it, desperately reaching for something else, anything else to focus on. As if sensing it, Elias stopped any other movement, all his ministrations focused entirely on that one, white hot point. 

And Jon couldn’t control it. 

When he let go, it was almost a shock, the release more profound even than the one before, horrified embarrassment intertwining with shame at this failure, even as part of him welcomed it, whatever the cost. He waited for the harsh words, the promised punishment, but instead Elias pulled him up into his arms, planting a kiss on Jon’s sweat soaked forehead. 

“You did so well,” he said, fingers sliding through Jon’s hair, soothing him with slow, steady strokes.

Some part of Jon was horrified at the state he was in, what he’d done, what they’d done in the name of some lesson he still didn’t understand. But it seemed too hard to argue now, the effort of being outraged dwarfed by what had happened, what he knew still had to come.

“You said there’d be more,” Jon mumbled into Elias’s shoulder. “Were you lying?”

His fingers stilled, and his hand withdrew. Jon lifted his head, surprised to find he was more distressed by this withdrawal than the state he was in. Panic rose in his chest, the calm receding as the reality began to crash home. But as he tried to pull away, to find a way to clean up and forget this ever happened, he was stopped by the touch of Elias’s fingers on his chin, and the tightening of the arm still wrapped around his back.

“No,” Elias said. 

Jon waited for the explanation that didn’t come. When he opened his mouth to protest, he found it covered by Elias’s, tongue darting between his lips, sliding over his, drawing him deeper. Pulling out his worries, his reservations, until all he could do was tremble and relax back into Elias’s hold. 

Eventually, he couldn’t ignore the discomfort, and Elias seemed to feel the same, lifting Jon in his arms with surprising strength. Any other time he might’ve argued with being carried, but a strange peace suffused him as Elias brought him across the threshold, into a rather palatial bathroom, setting him on the floor of the waiting shower. It was almost freeing, the failure. The uncertainty abandoned for the knowledge he did not have control. 

“Exactly,” Elias said as he knelt beside Jon, his own clothes discarded, now peeling away Jon’s. “You did perfectly.”

“You said—” His tongue was thick and heavy, mind still swirling, trying to grasp even an inkling of what had happened. “—you said I had to learn control.”

“I did,” Elias said, tugging the final scrap of clothing free, leaving Jon hot and cold and trembling as he reached for the handle. “And the lesson was that you do not have it.”

“What kind of lesson is that?” 

Elias didn’t respond, tugging him to his feet, pushing his hands against the wall so they held him up with his back facing Elias, the spray beating on his back. Again, Jon whimpered as the heat of the water coursed over his still smarting flesh. 

“One you’re still learning. And only one lesson I hope you learn today.” 

Despite his earlier promise, Jon still yelped in surprise when Elias’s hand fell again across his arse, slower now, but the aftermath made worse by the heat of the water. He edged closer to the wall, burying his head in his arms, shaking with each blow but no longer protesting. After all, what was the point? It wouldn’t change anything. 

It was a minute before he realized Elias had stopped, before he realized the Elias was against his back, breath hot against his ear, feeding the words into him. “Another lesson learned. Accept it, Jon.” His arm wrapped around Jon’s waist, and his slick cock sliding against the feverish skin of his arse, slipping between the cheeks, the soap painting stinging lines as Elias set a languid pace. “You made the choice to come here. You wanted to know, needed to know. But that doesn’t mean you have control. And it doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences.” 

He bit into Jon’s shoulder, and Jon let out a desperate, pathetic moan. Weakly pushing back against Elias, welcoming him now. For reasons he still barely understood. But no, that wasn’t true, was it? A lesson in control.

“It might drown me,” he said, as Elias continued in short, jerky movements, as his hand circled Jon’s own cock, already hardening again. “But you’re saying I should let go anyway.”

“Mmm, not quite yet,” Elias said, giving Jon’s cock a painful tug, with force that shouldn’t feel as good as it did. Just like the pain of Elias’s thrust, the continuing, gentle abrasion of his skin, should be a sensation Jon rejected, not one he increasingly desired. 

Some distant part of him wondered about infection, wondered if this was safe, if it was sanitary, soap and water enough to wash away what Elias left behind. But that wasn’t a concern anymore, was it? All he needed to do was let Elias hold him, let Elias push and pull and press between the cracks, until heat and pressure was all that Jon knew.

Again, Elias pulled on Jon’s cock, and thrust against him, shuddering as his come spurted onto Jon’s skin, slowly washed away by the water trickling between their bodies. Jon felt it almost as a loss, sick and needy and wondering what it meant. 

“Soon,” Elias said, “you’ll let go, even as you fear the release, and dread what is to come.” Lips were followed by teeth, worrying the shell of Jon’s ear. “Fall into the Eye.” His hand tightened, and with a moan Jon came again, sagging into Elias’s waiting arms as they both slid to the floor, the water beating down, relentless above them.

In the aftermath, Elias held him close, tracing patterns over his arse and thighs. Each touch was less painful than the last, his fingers no longer catching on the welts, instead gliding easily over smooth skin, the marks fading almost as quickly as they’d been applied. Jon wondered if it would prompt Elias to do it again. He wondered if this time, he’d object. 

Against his cheek, Elias smiled, and Jon turned into it, letting Elias catch his lips, suck his breath from his chest, leaving him desperate and aching. And only then did Elias speak again. 

“When you fall, I’ll be watching.”

It wasn’t a comfort. And yet, it warmed him all the same.


End file.
